She Stitched the Stars 'N Stripes
by Laliel
Summary: Captain Rogers thought that nothing could surprise him after the events with Loki. He gets proven wrong yet again, this time by an ordinary citizen. Rated T for mild language and some violence.


**She Stitched the Stars 'N Stripes**

_Note:_ Post Avengers.

_Rating:_ T for brief language.

_Summary:_ Captain Rogers thought that nothing could surprise him after the events with Loki. He gets proven wrong, again, this time by an ordinary citizen.

Not Comic Universe. Reviews are really, really nice. They help me to know how my creative writing is doing after typing nothing but two and a half years worth of college papers. That is the most effective writer's block I have ever experienced. I have half-written bits of fan-fic all over my hard-drive. So let me know if you want more, because trust me, there is more.

* * *

Dr. Bruce Banner truly was enjoying Stark's "Candyland", ten floors of R and D and no interruptions other than Tony or Pepper Potts. Of course, Stark Tower had needed a lot of repairs after Loki's army had swept through it, so Bruce spent most of his time on the lower levels, which were still in one piece. You could just make out the sounds of power tools and cheerful work crews from here. One window was slightly open, allowing a slight breeze and evening light into the spacious, tech crowded room.

There was a soft knock on the wall and he turned to see Pepper Potts standing there, two mugs of coffee in her hands. "I'm afraid it's just you and me in the tower tonight. Tony was commandeered by his friend Lt. Col. Rhodes and the United States Military to talk about alien invasion intervention and whether or not they really are worthless in a fight like that." She paused, looking thoughtfully at the polished white floor tiles. "Of course, knowing Tony and his caustic ways, it shouldn't take too long."

Bruce smiled, something that he knew he didn't do often enough of his own volition and watched as the chipper Ms. Potts approached with the drinks. She always wore casual clothes now, just fitted jeans and a loose button down blouse over a tank top, golden hair swept into a sleek ponytail. She was always cheerful and willing to listen, even if she only got three out of every ten words spoken. She was a stander and Bruce was amazed in her resilience in staying with Tony, whose odd habits and abrasive manner usually drove everyone else away. Tony was a damn lucky man, and what's worse, he knew it.

She peered around his shoulder as she set the mugs down. "Gamma radiation research?"

Bruce nodded and took a sip of coffee.

"That's what made Captain America the way he is…which I don't know anything about, of course." Pepper suddenly busied herself with arranging a series of pens on the table.

"Tony said he talks to you about everything. I never assumed you wouldn't know, Ms. Potts."

She smiled and it was like sunshine and spring exploded all over the room. "You can call me Pepper, you know. Tony really likes you and I think he won't mind."

Bruce turned back to his work, running a worn hand through his curly brown, gray tinged hair. "Even if he minded, what could he do to me? I think that's the hardest thing, knowing that if someone wants to fight me man to man, he can't." He shook his head. "I'm not getting anywhere with this stuff." He tapped a few buttons, transferring all his research to Jarvis's memory banks before switching off the holograph screen.

Pepper reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Did you ask Captain America about it?"

Bruce rubbed his eyes for a moment, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, and then turned to Pepper. The look her gave her was very defeated. "He doesn't know. Only Howard Stark and Dr. Erskine would have known exactly what was going on, and they're both dead now. The secret went to their graves."

Pepper really couldn't think of what to say. What could you say to someone who was so clearly worn out and yet was forced to not let go.

"Security Breach. Intruder Spotted." Jarvis' polite voice spoke out in the silence.

Pepper felt a streak of annoyance at the computer. It wasn't like a full-blown security program and had strange ticks and habits, the first one being British sounding and the second being direct but not specific. Although covered in plastic, the upper levels were still vulnerable to elements and…people?

Bruce stepped up and put himself between Pepper and the door. "Stay back."

"Jarvis, where is the intruder?"

"Behind you."

Pepper turned and had just enough time to focus on the black suited assassin and gun held at her before Banner shoved her to one side. Three bullets ripped into the doctor and everything went black. Pepper stared in astonishment as the Hulk's green muscles shredded Bruce's calm blue plaid shirt and charged the gunman, taking them both through a window. The scream of the terrified man trailed behind.

Pepper tugged her phone out of her pocket and used speed dial.

"You know, I really think you have a thing for me, Ms. Potts. And I've only been gone for a few hours-"

"Tony, shut up! There was a gunman and he shot at me, only Bruce got in the way and then…and then the Hulk came out and you need to get back here right now!" Pepper admitted that she was screaming into the phone.

Tony, on the other hand, sounded annoyingly calm and collected. "I'm on my way. Tell Jarvis to alert SHIELD, they might be able to contain the Hulk for now."

(-)

"Okay, so you beat my ass again."

Clint Barton tried to escape the deadly lock of Natasha Romanoff and found that he couldn't. Come to think of it, with her legs wrapped around his neck, he could barely breathe. He managed to choke out: "Nat, let go."

The alarms suddenly rang out. Director Fury sailed through the door of the training room, his black coat swooping behind him like an army of crows.

"Glad to see you two are getting on so well in your downtime."

Natasha released Clint and flipped off him. "What's the mission, sir?"

Clint tried to stand and found himself with his hands on his knees, gasping for air and pointing at his partner. "What . . . she . . . said."

Director Fury indicated the door. "Suit up; we have a problem with Banner."

(-)

Captain Steve Rogers had just switched off his bedside lamp and stretched out across the cool sheets when the phone began to ring in rusty, loud tones. It never failed. He reached out and flicked the switch on his lamp, sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and glared at the phone sitting atop his dresser. It didn't stop. The clock beside his bed read at 7:12 p.m. He sighed and stood, padding across the carpeted floor in bare feet and lifted the receiver of the antique WWII era phone to his ear.

The crisp no-nonsense voice of Agent Maria Hill rang out. "Sorry to wake you, Cap, but Banner's done it again. Stark's more than an hour out of range. We sent Hawkeye and Black Widow but they're going to need backup."

Steve looked directly at his reflection in the dresser's mirror. He looked rumpled in his pajamas, tired, worn around the edges, with blond hair sticking up in strange places. Some saucy Brooklyn part of him wanted to say that he had just cleaned up their shit, couldn't they keep it that way for more than ten days? But the much larger soldier part snapped into action. "Tell me when and where and I'll try to hold him off."

(-)

Steve arrived first, probably due to the fact that a little New York traffic never bothered him and that he was slightly close to Stark Tower than Shield's NYC base was. You just got on your motorcycle and used some things not meant for riding on, like parts of the sidewalk, making a mental apology to all of those blaring horns behind you. He checked his gun, now a permanent part of his gear since the incident with Loki in Stuttgart where he really had gotten the crap beaten out of him. Also, due to the later battle and bullet grazing his side, Steve had asked for a more practical suite design. Spandex and nylon were great for running track in, but not for dodging bullets and jumping through glass.

This suit was similar to his WWII one, with plate armor underneath the thick canvas/Kevlar fabric and a sturdy helmet with a chin-strap. He had fought to keep the chin-strap, stating that his hooded costume helmet offered absolutely no protection. If your enemy can rip it off your head, what damn good was it? Star-spangled he might be, stupid he definitely was not. He swung his nicked and battered Vibranium shield onto his back and listened for the scream that usually followed in Banner's wake. A roar and then glass shattering noises accompanied by a symphony of screams honed in from the left. He took off like a bolt of lightning, heading straight for the chaos.

He rounded the final corner and paused at the horrendous scene. The Hulk had taken out an entire office building's windows on his way down from Stark Towers. Glass was everywhere. Behind the Hulk Steve could see civilians, citizens who had been enjoying a late bite at a sidewalk café in the business district before heading home. At least five people were down in front, all appeared to be alive but in bad shape. One woman was crying out for help, one hand wrapped around a dagger of glass that had plunged into her abdomen as she was running for cover. He stepped out, took out his shield and gun, and opened his mouth.

"You want a piece of me? Come on you big green slug!"

He felt his mouth fall open in surprise mingled with horror. A petite blond woman in ordinary street clothes was standing ten feet from the Hulk, twirling a tazer in one hand and gesturing at him with the other to give her his best shot. The Hulk's back was to him, muscles bunching for the attack. Steve bolted forward as the Hulk charged, then turned up sharp as the woman shot the tazer, striking the Hulk's chest, and deftly twirled past him in a series of gymnastic moves. As she swept by she landed a series of lunging kicks to the green side and legs. The Hulk let loose another bone-jarring roar and lumbered after her. Steve could now see her plan, to distract, giving the others time to escape and help the wounded.

"What are you, flubber? My grandma kicked more arse during three months in WWII then you have in your life!"

Steve decided to meet her halfway. She seemed stunned when he raced past and took an attack stance, shield in front, gun behind. The Hulk didn't really pull up either, he saw Steve and banged one huge green fist on his chest before crashing forward. Steve pulled the trigger on his gun. Six specially designed bullets pierced the Hulk's skin, each shell containing enough drugs to knock out an elephant. Or in this case, with a combined strength to almost knock out a Hulk.

Steve watched as the creature went to his knees, obviously fighting the sudden wooziness. Then the plan began to unravel as it struggled back up. Tony had developed whatever was in those rounds and claimed that one clip would do the trick. Yeah, right. Steve's mind began to kick into overdrive, gauging distances and locating items that could be used for shelter and weapons. More people began to gather, using what Tony called a mutant curiosity gene. Sounds of murder and mayhem always collected crowds, even horrified ones.

Steve dropped his clip and shoved a regular into his gun. He knew it wouldn't be enough to kill the Hulk, but he hoped it would slow him down. Abruptly, twelve more gunshots sounded across the open space as Black Widow and Hawkeye, just arrived and still on the far end of the square, let loose with their own guns. The Hulk crashed down, eyes rolling back, completely, irrevocably unconscious. The sound if him hitting the pavement was like that of a granite slab falling two stories onto concrete.

Sirens blazed in the distance as all the onlookers began to tentatively clap.

Steve stepped up to the inert form and watched as it began to shrink and lose the green tinge. "Thanks for turning up."

Natasha and Clint walked up beside him.

Clint rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. "You were doing pretty damn well on your own."

Steve shrugged at the words. "Apart from those bullets being almost not what Stark promised?"

Natasha had been holding a folded mount of cloth in her arms and now stepped forward and covered Banner's appearing body with a SHIELD blanket. "I guess the Hulk is more powerful than even he assumed, he never fought him one on one. You just needed more rounds."

"Or a partner who can shoot straight."

A sudden sadness rushed through his system as he thought of the Howling Commandoes and their camaraderie. It had been amazing to go into a fight with those men, knowing they were always at your back. And in the off hours, they all roared with laughter that he could drink the best of them, Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan, under the table. SHIELD had said that they had all passed on now and he felt left behind. Forgotten. Alone. Steve shook his head fiercely and bullied his way past that particular depressing thought and unclipped his chin-strap, turning in time to see the police dashing forward. Some had guns drawn and others were sporting shields. Like that would have helped bring down a Hulk.

"I suppose Fury's going to take care of this, so we don't have to?"

There was a hopeful note to his voice that didn't go unnoticed.

Clint tapped Natasha's arm and gestured at the NYPD. "I know you're still getting used to all this, Cap, so we'll do cleanup and get Fury talking to them through an iPad. You can stay here and wait for him to come around."

Steve knelt beside Banner gingerly, first looking at the average sized man lying before him and then at the destruction in the area. The pavement had been smashed in several places and whole wall sections from upper stories lay scattered on the ground. A wave of enormous guilt washed over him; after all, Banner had only been trying to replicate the serum and Steve considered him a strange form of offspring. He should never have ended up asleep for seventy years, because Banner would never have tried this. Or would he? Steve had often tried as a child to predict the future, but realized it was impossible. If WWII had seemed impossible then, how much more impossible did things like computers and flying iron suits seem now? It was like living an alternate life and always in the back of his head was this spark of hope that he was unconscious and would awaken to the familiar faces of Colonel Chester Phillips, Howard Stark, and Margaret "Peggy" Carter looming over him.

"You're Captain America, aren't you." The statement broke into his reverie.

Steve turned to see that same petite blond standing a foot away. He observed without scrutinizing her. She wasn't very tall, perhaps 5' 5" at the most, slender with good muscular development, and lithe in a way the bespoke of ballet lessons given at the age of 6 and gymnastics at 9. She was wearing street clothes, like those someone doing mild jogging would wear, plain jeans and a flowered t-shirt and matching print hoodie. Pale blue sneaker adorned her feet.

"My Grandma had your comic books. She always said you were the best."

Steve shook his head adamantly. "No, I've seen the best, worked beside them on a daily basis. I'm just a kid from Brooklyn who got lucky."

She pulled on one hoodie string, looked at the end thoughtfully, and looked past Steve to the rubble. "I don't believe in luck, but I do believe in fate."

Banner began to move, groaning slightly as he fought to sit up, his salt and pepper curly hair sticking out on all sides.

His voice shook as he spoke. "Steve?"

Steve leaned forward and wrapped the blanket more solidly around the man. "It's going to be okay, Doctor."

Bruce turned and watched as the paramedics began to carry the wounded off on gurneys. "No it's not. It'll never be okay." He sounded broken, despairing. "It'll only be okay when I'm dead."

Steve placed a hand on the man's bare shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "There still might be a way to cure you, using me and my blood. Stark was talking about it the last time I saw him."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when a woman's voice called out: "Bruce, thank heavens! I was so worried about you!"

Everyone paused to watch as Pepper Potts ran up, her blond ponytail flying behind her and carrying a pair of pants and a shirt in her hands. She skidded to a quick stop and without further ceremony knelt down and hugged a very surprised and slight embarrassed Bruce Banner. "You saved my life, doing that…" Tears were in her eyes. She knew exactly what Bruce had risked in doing that and every syllable of what she spoke was sincere to the core. "You really are amazing…Tony is right. Oh, and here, I brought you something to wear." She glanced at Steve, her mind focused on a single mission and purposefully ignoring the disaster around her. "Would you mind…" Steve stood and gripped the edge of the blanket, pulling it up and around the man to create a small, private tent so he could dress without prying eyes.

After that Pepper went and spoke directly to the police about what had transpired with the assassin, who had been discovered by a policeman in the rubble, beaten and bloody and obviously dead. She then led a very exhausted looking Banner back to Stark Towers with her, arguing the entire way with a very annoying cop who trailed behind and kept saying that they needed to take the doctor into custody. Steve had no doubt that when Stark did show up; he would put his iron foot down, hard, and win. A policewoman stepped forward next and asked Steve to give his side of things, which he did in as few words as possible. Not only had the street lingo changed in seventy years, but so had police procedure. They had never been this thorough back in the day. You could steal from a five and dime and probably not get caught, nine times out of ten. Or so Bucky had once said. Steve's mind lurched at the remembrance, and suddenly, abruptly, sleep had never sounded so good. By now the crowd had dispersed at the urging of the NYPD, who had set up a tape perimeter and were stalking over the ruins looking for more evidence concerning the assassin. The only other people left in the immediate area were Hawkeye, Black Widow, and the blond woman, who hadn't felt obliged to leave but had given her own statement to the police in polite, crisp tones.

"Well, Cap, I think this is good night." Clint turned to the First Avenger, with Natasha following suit. "I have an appointment with a very comfortable bed back at base and intend to keep it."

Natasha stepped forward and nodded. "Thanks for coming to the call, Captain. It's good to know we can depend on you."

His soldier's urging came to the surface and he saluted them both, watching as they left, shoulder to shoulder, oddly and perfectly matched.

He could faintly hear Clint say "…Do you think that shawarma joint is still open?"

He sighed, part from relief and part from a bone-deep weariness. He gingerly slung his shield across his back and turned to the woman, who hadn't moved an inch. "Was there something else, miss?"

She gave an oddly endearing smile, flipped a blond braid behind her shoulder, and reached out a hand. "It's been an honor meeting you, Captain America."

It was his turn for a smile, albeit an 'embarrassed at being put on the spot' lop-sided one. "It's been an honor meeting you, too. I don't see too many people willing to confront the Hulk. Usually they run the other way when chaos reigns, but not you. You have moxie. It's refreshing. " He shook her hand warmly and then gave yet another crisp salute before turning to leave.

He had taken only ten paces when he heard her call out: "Captain, wait, I forgot to tell you, but my name is Betsy Ross. You know, she supposedly stitched the stars 'n stripes."

He turned and locked eyes with her, blue matched for blue. "I know we'll meet again, the American flag symbols you're wearing state it. It's fate."

Betsy suddenly launched into action and somersaulted out of the square, braid flying, legs and arms limber and in perfect time with her movement.

A small chuckle escaped from his lips, one of the first since his thaw.

"Betsy Ross. Go figure."

P.S.

For those not knowing, Elizabeth "Betsy" Ross is not a character I made up. She is a Marvel super heroine known as Golden Girl, who worked with Cap in WWII in the comics. And yes, I hate his new costume. Who puts someone who can be killed so easily with bullets in brightly colored spandex? O_o


End file.
